


Innocence Lost

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [100]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-13
Updated: 2007-04-13
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian hits the gym.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex and Ula
> 
> Thanks to Mali for the title, and for her inspiring comments: "I feel so bad for Ian, for something was surely taken from him at the gym. Some sort of innocence lost..."
> 
> Other Arcadia stories set in the gym:  
> [Avocation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1793590)  
> [Exercise in Exhilaration](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1819441)  
> [Empirical Results](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1843621)

Ian sat cross-legged on his mat, the gym quiet around him, save for the constant hum of the air-conditioning. It felt the same as on countless other nights, a balm to his senses after the upheaval with Derek. Even with his warm-up jacket unzipped to the waist, he barely noticed the chill, meant to keep sweaty athletes at a comfortable temperature.  
  
Quinn had wanted to come with him, hoping the peace of his presence would center his lad. In bed last night he'd run through all the delights to be had on the various equipment, complete with hands-on illustrations, as detailed as possible without the apparatus to play on. An exorcism by pleasure.  
  
Both of them knew they'd never really do these erotic exercises in public, but the fantasies had served their intended purpose --gymnastics put a smile on Ian's face once more.  
  
Ian had been sorely tempted to bring his husband tonight, the man who'd given him that cornucopia of joy. But he needed to do this alone.  
  
The familiar scents of chalk and sweat, with a touch of stale popcorn from their meet yesterday, drifted around him while he drifted into his own reverie.  
  
The high bar. Gleaming metal and the promise of flight. Long considered the most dangerous piece of equipment, it now presented a new danger to Ian. Coltish enthusiasm had yielded to world-weariness in the time it took to register Derek's freeze under his hands.  
  
He had taken something from Ian that night, something Ian might never regain. The absolute ease of a man in his perfect environment, ease with his own body, ease with the gymnasts around him. The carefree feeling of belonging.  
  
For a gay man in a straight world, the gym had been an island of serenity in a turbulent sea. No wonder Quinn had been just as affected by Derek's reaction, his empathy for Ian mixed with dismay of his own. Their dojo and the gym were remarkably similar places, though the disciplines involved were quite different.  
  
Master Yodama and Coach Rance had worked hard to create welcoming environments for people of every stripe, and would never tolerate prejudice if they knew of it. Thank goodness the sanctuary of the dojo remained inviolate, at least so far.  
  
Ian resolved to reclaim his sanctuary here, as well.  
  
Once Ian got over this hurdle, all eight-and-a-half feet of it shining in front of him, he'd bring Quinn to the gym again. Together they would fight off the darkness of Vedder.  
  
He had already made a start. His meditations on the mat had focused him on the only reality that mattered -- he was a gymnast in his element.  
  
Uncounted afternoons of soaring free had made the bar his favorite apparatus, the one he gravitated to more than any other. His gold medal as a Jedai Knight had really been won in the practice gym.  
  
He would not let his trouble with Derek lessen his joy in flying. Switching schedules would be an easy solution to the situation, but one that wouldn't solve the underlying problem.  
  
Derek had made it his problem now. By taking it to the gym, Ian's sanctum sanctorum, Derek had brought the battle home to him. Ian was being threatened on his home turf.  
  
Vedder seemed like a formidable opponent, the weight of generations of prejudice behind him, but his brand of intolerance increasingly seemed like the asthmatic wheezings of a musty, far-too-rigid code.  
  
Ian hadn't even mentioned the incident to Coach Rance, nor was he planning to. Although devastating to him, the freeze had been an automatic response. He shouldn't be so certain of the cause. But Ian had a gut feeling he knew all too well. And Otto wouldn't stand for it. The kid would be lucky to see the inside of any gym in a fifty mile radius by the time Coach got through with him.  
  
That would be satisfying, admittedly. But revenge was an indulgence Ian could easily resist. He simply wanted to recapture the same feeling he'd had for decades in the gym, the taste of freedom.  
  
A rush of air from the door interrupted Ian's meditations. He resurfaced to see Quinn towering above him on the mat.  
  
Quinn's smile was sheepish. "Sorry, lad. I'll go right back home if you..."  
  
It was Ian's turn to interrupt Quinn. "No. I'm glad you're here." Quinn had brought warmth to the chilly gym. He got up to embrace his husband, and was swallowed by his bear hug.  
  
Quinn poured all his love, respect, and support into the hug. He felt Ian relaxing in his arms, just as he had when Quinn had comforted him in bed. Touching his forehead to Ian's, Quinn smiled into his eyes. He tasted the tender lips beneath his own, his kiss for luck more important now than ever.  
  
A sweet moment later, Quinn gazed up at the high bar almost reluctantly. "Need a lift?" he asked, hoping humor would defuse the situation.  
  
Green fire blazed in Ian's eyes. "I'd love one."  
  
His four years of struggling for personal freedom with Quinn had strengthened Ian for this fight. Shedding his jacket, he picked up the grips from the mat and slowly put them over his hands, careful to rub chalk into them uniformly.  
  
Ian faced the high bar, his mouth a grim line of determination. He felt Quinn's hands on his waist, lifting him up to the bar, and couldn't prevent a shiver. This very touch, routine and business-like, was what Derek had found so offensive.  
  
Quinn's hands stayed warm around him throughout the shiver, patiently waiting for him to grip the bar securely. Then Quinn stepped back, and Ian started a series of giant swings. He worked up momentum for his release move, a double backflip over the bar, with which he'd won the gold as a Jedai Knight.  
  
The only thing more dazzling than his expertise was the joy dancing in their eyes as he soared free. 


End file.
